Victoria Langford ruled her empire with diamond-cut precision — firing staff without blinking, slicing egos with a single glance. But the night she caught an 8-year-old hiding in her pantry, clutching cold pasta and begging, “Please don’t fire my mom,” something cracked in the billionaire who prided herself on feeling nothing at all.
The elevator rose like a sealed glass capsule, lifting Victoria Langford through her own kingdom—steel, light, and the hush of money that knows how to keep secrets. Her penthouse opened on the first chime. Heels clicked across marble, steady as a metronome. She shrugged off a fur coat and let it fall across a chair … Read more